With the third one, a blue glow burst from the cup, transforming my blood into her potion. I was cold with dread as she lifted the cup to her lips and drained it.
Kakias turned toward me, and her sight pinned me to the ground. Nothing human swam behind those eyes.
That was the sacrifice, I supposed. To live forever, one must relinquish their ties to the mortal world.
It was the result of years of mourning. A desire born of fear, terror at having the person she loved most ripped away from her.
Even now, as I writhed beneath her clutches, I understood that pain. I’d clawed my way back from it, dragging myself through darkness and flame to escape. It was an all-consuming, blinding fear.
Barrett once said his mother and I had more in common than I realized. Though I doubted he knew the extent of that claim, he’d been right. We were two women ripped to shreds by the turns of fate, left to repair ourselves after being broken beyond recognition.
I’d found my own solace in my family, but Kakias had been alone. She’d turned to oblivion to heal herself, and now, she’d given up any feeling that remained in her body in order to outlast death itself.
The power that had planted itself in her usingmyblood swirled around her as she stalked toward me. Her power loosened enough for me to sit up.
“There’s one more step to hand over my mortal soul for eternity and make my transition complete.”
“What is that?” I panted, chest tightening.
Bloodred lips split into a grin, sharp teeth still impossibly white. “Now, you die.”
Chapter Fifty
Malakai
The safest temple toreach was a round stone building in the western sector of the Sacred Quarter. Small and abandoned, its copper-plated facade was tucked away from the heart of the battle. Though I wanted to tear back toward that chaos, I led Cyph and Vale there.
The Starsearcher didn’t stop as it loomed into sight, its tarnished door glinting green in the smoky night, the pillars framing the door cracked but standing.
Vale soared past us, up the small flight of stairs and through the creaking door.
Ripping open cabinets along the curved wall, she piled supplies in her arms. Tinctures and herbs, jars and candles, muttering under her breath the entire time. She carried them up the short aisle to the front of the room, striking matches, igniting pipes and rolled herbs. Smoke of various floral scents filled the air, mingling around her frame and shrouding her in a cloud of lavender fog.
“Go outside,” she hissed through the veil. The smoke drifting around her thinned so we could make out her actions.
“Why?” I snapped.
“Because you need to stay present in case someone comes, and I don’t know how the tinctures will affect you.” She poured a few drops of oil onto her hands within her cocoon of incensed smoke and pressed her fingers to her temples.
I was weary of leaving her alone, but Cyph’s hand was on my shoulder already.
With a reluctant snarl, I followed him outside, leaving the door open to keep an eye on the Starsearcher.
We took up spots on either side of the entrance, shadowed by the thick columns lining the wrap-around walkway. Cypherion was stoic beside me, eyes flicking inside every other second. There was an unfamiliar hardness behind his gaze—hurt and mistrust I normally saw within myself or Ophelia, but not in him.
Despite the distance from the fight, the clash of destruction echoed to us. I flinched as each cry hit my ears, both guilty I wasn’t there and grateful for a moment to rest. Still, the shame that washed through me knowing warriors were falling in my stead was icy.
That anger, that courage I’d found, seemed so far gone already. It wasn’t Vale’s deceit exactly—I’d had a feeling she was hiding something. It was the fact that the moment I dared to fight, another lie had to come along and rip the rug out from under me. Old wounds tore open. I’d fucking bleed out if this kept happening.
“Can we trust her?” I whispered.
Cyph stiffened, hands flexing. “She told us her secret—one that could make her our enemy.”
In my eyes, that didn’t make her trustworthy. It only showed that she now thought she gained a bigger advantage by being more honest with us than she once had. Or maybe she truly hadn’t had a choice, but now was forced into one.
Spirits, betrayal was never black and white, was it?
“Why do you think Titus instructed her to lie?” I asked, running a hand through my hair. Specks of ash shook from the strands, floating around me. I caught one on my finger and looked at it—this tiny speck of my city that had once been beautiful but was now tainted.
